Until We Meet Again
by V.Evergreen
Summary: If this is going to be the very last thing he can do for his brother then he's going to make sure it's being done properly. That means no mourning over a man that never existed and a whole lot more explosives.


The day of the funeral was bright and clear, and a damn sight more beautiful than it had any right to be. In the distance he could hear the muted whisper of hushed voices, carried by a gentle breeze. He ignored them. He knew his mother and the rest of the family wanted him to be down there with them, but he couldn't do it. He just wasn't strong enough anymore.

Instead, he was sat in his room, the stillness pressing in on him. They were burying his brother outside. Except Fred wasn't just a brother really. Ron was a brother. Charlie and Bill were brothers. Hell, even Percy was a brother. Fred was something more. Brother, best friend, co conspirator, the other half. All of the above. It felt more like they were burying him out there, never mind anyone else.

In a way he wished he could have gone with them. He'd kept to himself ever since it had happened, barely speaking to anyone, barely even eating. He knew they were worried about him and the very last thing he wanted to do was add another straw to the already breaking back of his family, but he felt like he couldn't physically do it. If he went down there the grief would become too tangible; too visceral. He'd see people crying over his brother. People talking about how great he was, how much of a hero he was. That wasn't his brother.

His brother was the one that used to try and steal the bacon off his plate when their mum wasn't looking until one day George slapped his fingers so hard with the fork he actually had a bruise for a month.

His brother was the one who had swapped places with him once and taken his detention with Snape so George himself could sneak out to meet Angelina just like he'd promised.

His brother was the one to first come up with the idea of testing their products on themselves to see if they worked right. He was also the one that George cursed at when they didn't.

The people who were going to one talking for his brother didn't know that. He didn't know who they were burying down there but it sure as hell wasn't Fred.

He should be down there, telling them that his brother could've been a right shit when he wanted to be. That he could annoy the hell out of anyone and turn the calmest of people into near homicidal like rage. That was the real Fred, not the selfless hero that near strangers were all trying to cry about. His family were thinking the same. At least most of them.

He'd seen Ron's pained expression when the mourners began to arrive, each bringing the same generic platititudes. Bill had nearly vanished the white lily flower arrangements when they'd arrived. It was ridiculous. Who'd thought that white flowers would be ideal for Fred? Nothing about him had been bland or colourless, so why were the flowers? He wouldn't have stopped Bill but his mother walked in and Bill had hastily stowed his wand.

He knew that his family wanted him to be down there and the people who had arrived to pay their respects would expect him. He also knew that he couldn't sit there while Fred was reduced to little more than a war hero with a handful of meaningless sentences. Even the room he was sitting in was chock full of explosives and fireworks. Was that the sort of thing a war hero would have? He bet that half the people downstairs didn't even know about the shop. After all, it wasn't the shining sort of career you imagined a brave young hero to have, was it?

George felt the smirk creep onto his face before he even realised why it was there. It was the first time he could remember smiling since...that day, and it made his face ache as forgotten muscles were used once more. He cast an eye across the room but this time with a critical mind.

If those people thought they could get away with demeaning Fred to something half as awful as boring, then they had another thing coming.

His eyes lit upon exactly what he needed and he grabbed them and ran out his room eager to carry out the last act of the great Weasley twins.

~o~o~o~

He was completely set up.

By some miracle no one had seen him as he ventured downstairs. Then again maybe luck had nothing to do with it; the ceremony would have started by now with everyone gathered in the orchard. That was the place they were going to put him. Far enough that they weren't reminded of his cold dead body laying just under the soil every time they walked past but close enough that they could always visit him.

Incidentally, it was also the perfect place for what George had planned. He didn't need it get too close for this to work. He wouldn't be seen but more importantly he wouldn't see the casket. There was a reason his first reaction had been to stay the hell away from there today.

He set the fireworks down and angled them. These ones wouldn't be going straight up and he needed to make sure that they happened exactly where everyone was mourning the man who had never really existed. At least not the way they thought of him.

He took a deep breath. Held his wand in his hand.

_...3 _

_...2 _

_...1 _

He looked away and lit the fuse. Scrambling back he watched as they flew in a high and elegant ach over the visitors. No one noticed until... BANG!

The fireworks exploded into colour. Bright sparks flew in all directions as more whizzed past the guests. George stood up and admired his handiwork. He walked a little closer to get a better look and carried on walking.

There was smoke everywhere, lit by bright colours and vivid flashes of light. Guests screamed in shock as a singular firework simply continued to explode way above their heads, multiplying until the air was thick was the smell of gunpowder and smoke. Half of them seemed in awe of the display and at least one or two had started laughing. One of them was his mother.

He could see her clearly from where she had stood up in the front row. She had tears running down her face as she clapped and laughed at her sons' invention. His father stood up next to her. He didn't laugh like his mother did and his face still looked too weary to belong to a man of his years but in that moment they didn't seem to matter. He looked up at the sky and smiled.

Soon the whole family was there. Ron, Percy, Ginny, Bill and Charlie all stood there together, some holding hands, some with arms slung around each other while guests ran back to the house.

It was Ron who saw him first, standing there half obscured but the thick smoke of having let of som many fireworks at once. It was was worth it, of course it was. He jerked his head once but the meaning was clear, _get over here_. When George didn't move immediately his young brother glared, _now_.

Before he knew it he was right in the middle of his family, holding Ginny's hand and with Bill's arm slung around his shoulders.

When he felt his eyes burn and his throat swell he knew it wasn't just the smoke.

"This is just what he would have wanted." Murmured his mother from behind him.

George already knew. This was his own way of saying goodbye. "Yeah, it is." He heard himself say.

_Goodbye Freddie._


End file.
